


Ignorance Is Bliss

by 1nsaneAlice



Series: The Wives of Eden's Gate [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Abuse, Brainwashing, Chastity Device, Cults, Dark, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Humiliation, Insanity, Lima Syndrome, Mindbreak, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Fanaticism, Sexism, Stockholm Syndrome, The Author Regrets Nothing, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Yandere, dont worry, extreme sexism, john does not become a good guy, naive oc, not a tragedy though, shy oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1nsaneAlice/pseuds/1nsaneAlice
Summary: Dinah had moved to Hope County with hopes of leading a peaceful life in the country.Sadly it seems that The Baptist of Eden's Gate has other plans for her. And poor Dinah is trapped within a web of prophecies, lies and obsession.********THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR THE LIGHT HEARTED! For the sake of this story's plot, I made the Cult a lot more sexist. This story will be a hard read for many people. Do not comment if you find something disturbing, this story is meant to be.





	1. The arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Far Cry does not belong to me.
> 
> The heroine in this story is not a typical badass 'I can do everything and overcome anything' character that I see commonly in most OC fanfiction. She is weak-willed, she is shy and she is naive. I did this to build character within the character, in my opinion, weaknesses are what makes a character relatable. I wanted to write a character that reacts like a normal person for once, not someone that is smart as well as strong-willed and perfect like most people tend to write their characters. 
> 
> If you are still going to read on after that, I do hope that you enjoy the story.

I look out at my small ranch in satisfaction. It has been a month since I moved to Montana. My therapist back home had suggested that a change of setting would be good for me, away from the stresses of city life. So I travelled halfway across the world and found myself in Montana. I set up a small ranch with the sole purpose of helping injured animals. 

I had finally finished setting up a chicken coop, mumbling a small 'Thank you' to the builders whilst paying them, my head kept down so as to not look them in the eye. "No problem sweetcheeks," one of the builders, a rather attractive blonde, said. What was his name again? Oh well, not like it matters. I start heading back inside when the blonde builder calls out to me, "Hey just out of curiosity," I let out a subtle sigh and turn to face him, "are you British or somethin'?" I fight the urge to groan, sadly this is not uncommon for me no matter where in the world I travel, "I'm Australian," I reply, with a forced smile, "have a good day." The blonde man smiles obliviously back, "you too ma'am. Hey, maybe I'll see you around!" I turn back to my house, "yeah maybe."

I scold myself as I make my way to my living room. Why was I always like this? That builder seemed like the perfect male specimen, he was tall, blonde, fit and nice albeit a teensy bit too oblivious. Not to mention him and his three other friends finished building the coop three days earlier than planned. Now my awkwardness possibly ruined something with a great guy. Oh well, no need to dwell on it. I take three deep, calming breaths and I go through the next thing on my list, of course, a chicken coop is going to need chickens, and that means going to the seller that I had been recently emailing. I send her an email, telling her that I would be arriving earlier than planned. I eat a simple salad for lunch before grabbing the keys to my old ute that I bought cheap and it looked like it. I would've preferred a nicer car, but injured animals take up a lot of room, so sadly the idea of a city car had to go. 

I sit in my driver's seat of my rusty ute for about two minutes working up the courage to drive to the nearest seller - a woman named Mary-Anne - before I scolded myself for being pathetic. It's just a woman who's selling me some chickens. I take three deep, calming breaths before starting my car and carefully back out of my driveway, reminding myself to drive on the right-hand side of the road. This isn't Australia anymore.

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The drive isn't very long, her ranch was situated by Henbane river. Mary-Anne owned quite an impressive ranch, she had a few horses (or were they ponies?) roaming the paddocks closest to the road. Her property had to be at _least_ fifteen acres. Beside her sizable house stood an impressive chicken coop, almost as big as my house. It was no wonder she was willing to sell me so many chickens at such a cheap price, she must have hundreds with a coop that size. I slowly pull into the gravel driveway, making sure I don't hit any of the trees on the way in.

I quickly check myself over in the car mirror, smoothing over my eyebrows and pick some lint off of my shirt, trying to make myself as presentable as possible. I let out a heaving sigh and carefully leave my ute so as to not fall and hurt myself.

I walk up to the front door and carefully knock on the front door. "Just a second!" I hear a woman, who I assume to be Mary-Anne, call from inside the house. I wait outside the door, tapping my shoe against the ground repeatedly. The door opens to a tall and rather pretty woman on the other side. Her face was naturally beautiful, needing no makeup, her hair was a soft brown and seemed to flow down to her collarbones. She wore a pretty white dress adorned with flowers that reached down to her knees. Her face softens at the side of me and her voice goes an octave higher, "why hello there! My name is Mary-Anne. Are you lost?" I inwardly groan. I get comments like that often. I barely stand at four-foot-nine, not to mention my breasts are practically non-existent- the only curvy thing about my body is my large 'birthing hips' as my mom would call them. Despite being mostly on the skinny spectrum, my cheeks were still slightly chubby and my eyes are huge in comparison to my small nose and mouth. Suffice to say, people mistake me for a child often.

"Um, I'm Dinah." I reply, "I'm here to collect some chickens." Mary-Anne's face fell to a look of horror as she realised her mistake. "I am so sorry," she apologises. "It's okay," I assure her, "you're not the first." She smiles politely at me before opening the door further, beckoning me inside. We make our way to her living room and I sit on the couch with her.

"So, Dinah," she began, "tell me about yourself." Her voice was melodic, I could easily find myself getting lost in it's soft and innocent tone. "I-I don't know what you want me to say..." I blush.

"What brings an Australian to travel halfway across the world to our humble county?" she asks.

"My therapist back in Melbourne said that a change of pace would be good for me. That country life would offer me less drama and more peace."

"What's your family like?

I look down, contemplating how I was going to answer this question without lying, "my family isn't... close. My mom is an American, born in Brooklyn. She moved to Australia when she married my dad. I've been an American citizen since birth." I look down at my knees, I know I didn't really answer her question, at all, but it was too uncomfortable for me to talk about my family in too much depth. Besides, I'm not here to make conversation, I'm here to buy some chickens.

"Um," I start," So about the chi-" she cuts me off in the middle of my sentence, "Oh yes! The tea! I completely forgot. would you like some? I made the brew myself." I felt too awkward to decline, so out of pure politeness I accepted. She floated out of the room and into the kitchen to prepare the tea.

I sit stiffly on the couch, not knowing what to do to pass the time. So I sit and wait, tapping my thigh with my fingers to a non-existent beat in an effort to ease my boredom. Mary-Anne comes back into the room, her bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. she sets the tray of tea on the coffee table in front of the couch. She passes me a cup, which had already been filled with tea before she came in here, before pouring herself a cup of tea. "Are you religious?" she asks, seemingly out of nowhere. "Um, I don't really g-go to church, I wouldn't say I'm not th-though" I reply, confused about the question, "W-why do ask?" She takes a sip of her tea and politely, I do the same. "Religion is a big part of the community here at Hope County," she says with a twinkle in her eye. I take another sip before setting my cup down on the table. I flex my fingers a few times to relieve the numbness of them. Did Mary-Anne turn on the heater when she went to the kitchen?

"Are you okay?" she asks, her tone more curious than concerned "I'm just feeling a bit woozy," I say. I nestle my head into my hands, hoping to relieve the fatigue that I feel. Mary-Anne rises from the couch and stands in front of me holding my face in her soft hands, her elegant fingers stroking my cheeks living a tingling feeling in their path. At this point, I was too weak to be able to move and I couldn't seem to produce any sound. I look up at her eyes. When did she grow four of them? The numbing sensation slowly starts to spread its way down my body. Mary-Anne starts to speak, her voice sounding like multiple people speaking at the same time, sounding too beautiful and melodic to be even considered human. "Dinah. You have been misled all your life, you have been shrouded in a cloud of sin that has stopped you from seeing your true potential, your true  _purpose._ Please, let the word of The Father guide you. The Lord has given you to us with a special purpose. Fate has led you along this path to us, The father has seen it in his visions. In two weeks time, on the seventh day of the seventh month, you will be married to my brother, The Baptist. You can live the life that you wish and be free from the guilt and your sin. You just have to have faith in us."

Between listening to her insane ramblings and fighting against the lure of sleep, my vision slowly darkens. My world becoming one of darkness.

"Welcome to the bliss." 

 

                         

      


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah wakes up. Terrified by what she discovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the third time I have written this chapter as my work kept deleting itself so sorry that this came MUCH later than promised. I also prefer quality. I hate it when creators update regularly but the chapter is short or just filler. I don't write filler. If there is ever a chapter that you feel doesn't have much action it is because it's necessary. I would also like to say that if, at any point, you feel a character is OOC that is because you only see about 20 minutes of these characters in the game at their most volatile and manipulative. No, this does not mean I am making them fluffy teddy bears but it does mean that I will be adding much more depth and layers to these people.

Waking up was… weird. That’s the only way I could possibly describe the feeling. My head felt fuzzy, my brain feels as if it was being squeezed. That’s the only way I could describe it. Weird. My body feels floppy. It feels like I’ve exhausted most of my energy lifting my hand. Imagine feeling as if you are in your locked in own mind yet at the same time you are not in your own body, instead, you are looking down on yourself from an outsider’s perspective.

I'm lying on my stomach, one of the many advantages of being flat chested, and I open my eyes to see a concrete wall, riddled with slight cracking. I feel a cold cloth go over my face patting me off. I mumble unintelligibly, reaching my hand up to pull the cloth off of my face only for my hands to be gently pushed back to my sides. I gently get turned onto my back, the cloth still in place. 

The reality of the situation hits me finally. I've been lied to, drugged and then locked away. A sob shakes through my body as my fuzzy mind had come to face the reality. I was a prisoner. "Shhhhhh," the voice, a male, says, "it'll be okay. I promise." His voice is seductive, yet not lustful. Laced with false security. "I only wish to help you." He turns his hands to my arms, slowly stroking up and down. My brain was still too addled with drugs to be able to resist. "I will talk to you tonight. I must introduce you to my siblings after all. I left you a book to read and a radio in case you get bored." With that, he quickly left the room. Faster than I could pull the cloth off my eyes.

I look around the room, it was quite small. The walls and floor was concrete, a dark red stain was splattered against the side of the room, it was the only colour that this room had. There was a desk next to my bed. The only thing on it was a book and a radio. The radio wouldn't turn on when I tried. The book was called The Book of Joseph. Nothing I've ever heard of before. There was a pink water bottle next to me, I lifted it up gently to my lips. I take small sips so as not to make myself ill. After all, who knows how long I've gone without any water.

A box lay against the edge of the bed. I crawled over and gingerly picked up the note with my slim fingers. 

_Darling Dinah,_

_Your clothes are a disgrace. Change into this dress._

_Your fiancé,_

_John._

His handwriting was immaculate. Every cursive letter flowed into the other. I could hear his order in his words, it was short and demanding. I cringed at the word  _fiancé,_ I most definitely didn't want to marry a man who keeps me locked in a cell. I look over to the door, no handle. It must only be accessible from the outside. 

I look at the clothes that I was given. In it were a conservative, red dress and a pair of black flats.  I don't want to know how they got my sizes. The underwear was a white cotton, I don't even know  _why_ they bothered with a bra. I also don't particularly want to find out how they knew my size. I look up at the corner of the room. Of course, there was a camera there. I sigh reluctantly and begin to undress. I didn't want to find out what would happen if I resisted.

I look self-consciously up at the camera again, my shirt was off, leaving my chest bare. I quickly lay my arm across my breasts as I crawl underneath the sheets so I could I could dress away from prying eyes. It was difficult, I had to put on the underwear three times before I finally got it right, but it was better than getting changed in front of some pervert’s eyes. Or worse, John's.

I spent a while resting and thinking. The lack of windows and clocks in here made it impossible to know the time. I refused to touch the book he gave me. Trying to find a way to at least rebel slightly. 

I tried to occupy by going through the facts that I know. I was kidnapped, but it wasn't him that drugged me it was Mary-Anne, so he couldn't be working alone.  This man also had money or time. How else would someone have been able to build a cell like this? Maybe it's his basement? Hid handwriting showed some higher education, not just anyone has handwriting that beautiful. He mentioned siblings, they must be working together if he's willing to introduce me to them so shortly after kidnapping me. I can only hope he's not delusional. I don't want to deal with more problems. Judging by the red stain on the wall I'm not the first person here. And I may not be the last.

I try hard to calm my quickening breaths. The light was too bright to be able to sleep and there didn't seem to be any switches on the wall. I probably wouldn't be able to sleep with my racing thoughts anyway. I occupied the time to tap an unknown rhythm against my thighs. 

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I don't know how long it had been before the guards came to get me. For all I know it could have been ten hours, it certainly felt that way. There was no windows or clocks to tell the time with, though I doubt that it was an accident on my captor's behalf. 

John came in behind the two men, I finally saw what my supposed 'fiance' looked like. He was more attractive than I had expected. He had dark hair, a thick beard that somehow suited him and the bluest eyes that I had ever seen. They're the closest thing I've seen to a sky since I got here. He made his way over to me, his fine shoes clicking against the floor, I started shuddering. The closer he got to me the more scared I would become. He looks over at the book on the bed and clicks his tongue in disappointment. "You know," he begins, "usually when someone goes through the trouble of getting you a gift you don't ignore it. I didn't  _have_ to get you anything, you know. If I knew you were going to be an ungrateful  _bitch_ I never would've gone through the trouble. It's more than what most people would've done." 

During his speech I withdrew into myself more and more, shame growing within me. He was right, I've gotten more than most would in this situation by getting a book. He looks over at me and huffs in annoyance. "Now, now I don't want any of that," he pulls out a silken handkerchief from the breast pocket in his vest and softly wipes my cheeks before kissing each one softly, completely unlike his treatment mere seconds ago. Somehow, this bipolar treatment scared me more even more than when he was yelling at me. Being unpredictable only makes my situation that much more complicated. "There will be time for tears later," he continues. I try not to think about the implications of his words.

He snaps his fingers at one of the guards, who in turn hands him a thin black cloth which is pulled across my vision and tied to the back of my head. I feel John's pull me up into a standing position, draping one arm across my shoulders. I was practically hugging him. one of the guards snaps handcuffs on my wrists. John escorts me out of my cell, guiding me by the arm on his shoulders.

It's a long walk, I tried to memorise the route but after several twists and turns I can't help but think that they were purposefully making this as long and complicated as it could be. I bumped into what felt like crates multiple times, though by the chuckle he would give everytime I doubt that it was a mistake on John's part. When we finally went outside I heaved a massive breath of the fresh, crisp air. Much to John's amusement. I had not realised how stuffy it got inside that cell, how stale the air was.

John firmly guided me into a car. The seats were stiff but not exactly uncomfortable, it felt old. I was pulled against John's warm chest, practically laying across the backseat of the vehicle. "Take us to my ranch," John commands, I could feel his chest rumble against my ear as he spoke. "Yes, sir," I heard one of the guards say from the front seat.

The car ride was rough, the gravelly road making the car bumble up and down. There was not much chatter going on aside from the occasional few words exchanged by the guards. From the movement of the arm, John was holding me with I could tell he was somewhat occupied. "If you could kindly," John said, venom lacing is his tone underneath his polite words. I could feel my heart clench in fear. He continued, "look at the road while you're driving and  _not_ at my fiance that would be great." I felt relieved that it wasn't directed at me but at the same time terrified at the implication of his words. Fiance. I've been hearing that a lot over the past day. "S-sorry sir," the guard replied. It seemed that I wasn't the only one in the car feeling terrified. "Lust is a very poisonous sin. See me tomorrow, I'll make sure you atone." 

_Atone._ So, he's a priest of some sorts? But why would a priest kidnap someone? My eyes widened underneath the cloth, my heart clenched impossibly tighter. I don't know how I didn't think of it earlier. Every man having a beard, me being kidnapped, them having access to an underground prison sort of complex, my kidnappers having 'employees' and finally John being some sort of priest. I whimpered, only to have me drawn closer to John's chest. The reality of the situation dawned on me.

This was a cult.

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The rest of the car trip was uneventful. I started quietly sobbing into John's chest at the horror of the situation I found myself in. Aside from the 'comforting' shushing and his hand rubbing up and down my arm it was uneventful. Eventually, the car pulled to a stop and my blindfold was removed from my eyes. I had to blink a few times to adjust to the light. It was night time but the house in front of me was very well lit. It was large, very large. Big enough to be considered a miniature mansion. 

I was escorted inside; the two guards had left at some point. The inside was filled with comfortable, rustic furniture and ceramics. It looked like it was decorated by my grandparents. That's not to say it isn't beautiful, it most definitely was. There were wooden crosses and similar religious motifs throughout the house. "Like it?" John asked. "I-it's very beautiful," I reply, not wanting to say anything that would upset him in any way. Not that I was lying, the house was comforting and gorgeous. Aside from the rustic feel, it was obvious that everything was very expensive and antique. Whoever John was, it was obvious he had money. And lots of it. "I'm glad you like it," he continues, "after all, you're going to be spending the rest of your life here."

I don't reply, I can't think of a response that wouldn't anger him. Instead, I try to put my mind onto something else. We stop inside a dining room, the room was well-decorated and each cupboard had china plates and figurines. One of the walls had a deer head mounted onto it. He guides me towards one of the seats at the table. I sit down on top of the seat cushion. There were five paces set at the table, I noticed. Oh yeah, his siblings are coming. "W-where am I?" I softly ask, hoping I didn't anger him. "You are at my house. Well," he pauses to chuckle, "I suppose it's  _ours_ now." He opens his mouth as if to say more when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of a pocket in his vest to check on it. "Ah," he exclaims, his voice taking on a pleasant tone. He quickly types something on his phone before putting it away again, "That was my brother, Jacob. My siblings are a few minutes away." 

I look at the flag hanging on one side of the room. It's an American flag but the stars were replaced by some kind of symbol that I've seen all over John's house. It's like a heavily modified Cross. It was a spark of colour in a beige and white decorated room and I can't help but feel as if it was done on purpose. I look over at John, he was staring at me with a heavy gaze. "W-what's your last n-name?" I blurt out without thinking. I curse at myself for speaking out of turn. I haven't been around this man long enough to know what will set him off. John smirks, "Seed, John Seed." It suited him, I couldn't think of a more suitable last name for him.

The times slowly goes by, the tick of the minute hand on the antique clock deafening. John seemed perfectly content staring at me, while I squirmed in my seat under his scrutiny, playing with a napkin that I had dragged into my lap to distract myself. Soon a knock came from the dining room door. "I hope that you don't mind that we let ourselves in, brother," I heard as the door opened. John turned in his seat towards the door, "hello Joseph."

And one by one, the Seed family entered the room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've preferred to have written an extra thousand words or more. The start of next chapter was going to be included in this chapter. However, this chapter deleted itself multiple times and just became stressful to deal with, so much so that I avoided writing for a few days. I think that you guys have waited long enough, however.
> 
> I want you all to remember that Dinah has mental problems, severe enough that she had to move halfway across the world for some semblance of peace. I don't plan on ever revealing what she has, labels aren't important. Though she is in the severe range for her mental condition/s I'm actually writing this realistically. I find many fanfiction authors use it for the sake of plot instead of character and even more fanfiction authors (and real authors) can grossly over dramatise symptoms to the point of insult. Some of the characters I read should be in the hospital from how huge their symptoms are. I'm hoping that I can write someone who is more realistic in that sense, especially since I suffer from a few problems myself. The only reason I have included this mini-rant is that I want my readers to know that if you think she is being melodramatic or over-emotional that is why. My main characters in Joseph and Jacob's story will be quite different and not be suffering from the same problems that this character does.
> 
> Overall I'm happy about how this chapter turned out. I hope you guys can say the same.


	3. Indoctrination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah meets the family. Things begin to take a turn for the worst as her conditioning begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where you will have to heed the warnings. Shit starts to get real and you need to look at the tags. This fic is disturbing and would be a hard read for anyone that supports equal rights. Hell, parts of this fic are going to difficult for me to write. Dinah was already Christian before she came to the cult. She doesn't go to Church because 1. that's rare for Australians 2. her social problems and 3. Australians have their own faction of Church which is called the Uniting Church, there is not one in America so Dinah can't go to church (duh). I have avoided using words like 'hell' and 'oh my god'. It's harder than one may think.
> 
> My fics have Australian spelling. Color=colour, theater=theatre, center=centre etc. It's what all my spell checkers are attuned to.
> 
> Sorry, this came so late but holidays got in the way.

I thought John was the most intimidating person that I had ever met. I still do, but his siblings come very close. Mary-Anne (who I now learned was actually called Faith), was quiet but attentive, especially towards her older brother, Joseph. Admiration sparkled in her eyes and it was very clear that she worshipped the very ground that he walked upon. I can barely recall her even sparing her two other brothers a single glance. Jacob, who I learned was the oldest brother, looked like a cobra ready to strike. He didn't seem to have much patience for mindless chatter, only adding in his points when necessary and saying the bare minimum he needed to. At the centre of this family was Joseph. He had a comforting aura, capable of converting even the most sceptical all the while making his insane views seem legit.

Project at Eden's Gate. That's what the cult was called. With Joseph as the mastermind and his siblings as his lackeys. From what I gathered, Joseph has a delusional belief that nuclear is imminent and that he will lead his people into the Garden of Eden. I remember my therapist back in Australia telling me to never dispute the beliefs of a delusional person lest they become aggressive. There's no convincing them that they are wrong I suppose.  Especially if those beliefs are religious.

"Dinah," I hear my name being called. I look up at the siblings, all of whom are now staring at me intently. Joseph leans forwards and smiles in what is supposed to be a comforting manner. He continues, warmth lacing his tone, "I -  _we -_ understand that this must be scary for you. We are gracious that you have accepted everything so well. God has smiled upon us, upon  _you._ " At some point, my head found its way back into my lap again, my hands making knots in the napkin that sits there. He places his hand on the side of my face and tilts it up to look and him before relaxing back into his seat. He clears his throat and looks at his siblings before speaking again, "Let's make this easier, hm? Let's play twenty questions. You ask us something, we ask you something. We will all answer  _honestly_ of course," He looks at me warningly. "How about I start? Just to make things easier on you. Why did you come to our beautiful county?" Well. He doesn't beat around the bush. I take a long drink of water from my glass, stalling for as long as I could.

"B-back in Melbourne, where I grew up, I saw a therapist, th-they said that the city wasn't good for me, too stressful you know? My mom's American, from Arkansas, so I would go there every year to visit, usually when its winter in Australia and summer here but sometimes we went for Christmas, f-for mom you know? But I wanted to be somewhere unfamiliar, where no one knew who I was. I-I guess I could just start over. " I look down at my lap, "I'm sorry, I'm rambling." I hear a chuckle from John, "C'mon kitten. It's your turn to ask a question now." Kitten? Odd choice of pet name. I try to think. What's the one question that I want to know the most? "Uhm, okay," I shuffle in my seat, feeling more self-conscious under their gazes than ever. "W-why me? Out of a-all the people you could have chosen, w-why would you choose me?"

"Choose you?" John asked, chuckling. "We didn't just  _choose you._ You have been chosen by God himself, He whispered his prophecy into the ear of the Father." Faith spoke up for the first time, "you are here by the will of God, do not dispute that." I didn't know how to respond, so instead, I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I slowed down my breathing, trying not to break down in front of these people. "I think she's had enough for tonight. As always, John, thank you for the delicious meal," Joseph leaned over and touched heads with John, it felt oddly intimate to watch. Not in a sexual way, of course.

Joseph and Faith left the room, leaving only Jacob here with us. I leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table before addressing me, "You may have Joseph fooled, but don't think for a second neither me or John are. Don't think I don't see the fear and defiance in your eyes." His voice was low and gravelly, only adding to the creep factor. He turns to John and continues speaking as if I left the room, "You have two weeks John. Make sure you've converted her by then."

"It's my job, brother. Do I look like an amateur?"

Jacob chuckled, "Of course not, I know you're an expert in your... field. But you have a much smaller time frame than usual, what about the others?"  _Others?_ I had to swallow down the bile that threatened to rise. I'm glad I didn't find it within me to eat more than a few bites. 

"Joseph has decided to put them into your  _care_ until after the wedding. You have a problem, take it up with him," John said. I hesitantly snuck a glance up at Jacob, he didn't look happy at all with this news. He slides his chair out with an ear-splitting screech. "As always, thank you for the dinner, John." John smiled, " May God be with you, brother."

Jacob left the room, leaving a deafening silence in the room. John turned in his seat, a sadistic smile plastered on his face, " are you ready to go back to your cell?"

             

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                                        *

It was dark. So dark that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. John stripped me naked before he pushed me back into the cell. The only item left on my body is a metal cuff around my thigh.  I can't sleep. The stress of the day is getting to me. I sit cross-legged on the decrepit bed, my back against the cold, concrete wall. 

Maybe if I feel against the wall I may be able to find a light switch. I straighten my legs out and lower them gently towards the floor. The second my sole touches the ground I start convulsing. The convulsions sent me collapsing to the floor. The convulsions stop and the lights turn on. I lay panting on the ground, my eyes shutting closed, not used to the light. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You weren't looking for an escape, were you?" John's mocking voice plays over a speaker. I pant, rapidly blinking my eyes so I can become used to the light again. "Aw. Poor baby. Must've been quite the  _shock,_ huh?" He chuckles at his own joke while I raise my body onto the support of my elbows, holding my head in my hands. The muscles in my thigh twitch every now and then. John continues talking, "Now pull yourself onto the bed and grab my present from the desk." I would rather have stayed on the floor forever. The cold in the room finally provided me with some sort of comfort. But I did not want to get shocked again. I place my arms against the bed and somehow finds the strength to pull myself up onto the mattress. I lay there for I second, giving myself time to recover before looking towards the desk. There was a book laying on it. I pick it up, it felt like a dead weight in my hands. The Book of Joseph. I felt like throwing it across the room, but acts of vengeance will get me nowhere. And I don't particularly feel like being shocked again.

"Open it," John commands. I do as I'm told opening it to the first page, confused as to where this was going. "Read it," John says and I open to the first page and stare at the binding in the middle in a silent defiance. "Out loud. I'm not an idiot," John says firmly. I cleared my throat and started reading as loudly and as clearly (which wasn't much) as I could.

 

                                       *

                                         *

                                *          *

         

                                      *

We continued like this for hours, me reading and him instructing. Sometimes he would have me read the same line over and over again until it was permanently transfixed into my mind. Other times I doubted he was even there listening. Though the fear of being shocked kept the thought of disobeying far from my mind. I was never the type to resist authority even if it meant pain. It must be getting to my head, at some point I thought I smelt flowers. The exhaustion getting to my head. I don't know when I last slept, I can't tell time 

"Read from page fifty-three paragraph two," John said over the speaker. I start flipping to the page before John stopped me, "Without looking at the page." I look up at the camera in confusion, "B-but I haven't read tha-" I scream as the shocks overcome my body, I didn't fall off the bed this time, miraculously. The shocks stopped but my leg was violently twitching. A metallic taste resonated in my mouth. I spit out some blood onto the ground. A mixture of blood and saliva stuck to my sips in a string. I pull it off my mouth and wipe my hand against the side of the mattress, not caring about cleanliness at this point.

John spoke  again, "Continue from where we left off." I weakly grab the book again, tears streaming down my face. "Oh boo ho. Cry me a river," John mocks.

 

                         

                                      *  

                                         *

                                *          *

         

                                      *

 

The lights are off but I can't sleep. A song, 'Oh John' plays from the speakers at top volume, the song had repeated itself one-hundred and thirty-two times by now. I could practically sing it off by heart by now. The song suddenly shuts off, halfway through the song. By some sort of compulsion, I couldn't let it stand, I whispered the rest of the song to myself before finally going to sleep. I vaguely remembered a floral smell.

 

~~~~~~~~~~                                    

There was no routine. I ate, slept, read and listened. Food only came when I was asleep, I craved some sort of contact, humans are social animals. I wanted to talk to someone, hug someone,  _anything._ But John was all I had.

Sometimes I would only be up for a short time, maybe five minutes, before the lights shut off, I don't know how long I slept. Whatever it is it's definitely not enough. I read the Book of Joseph in my spare time. I have to memorise the book. I can't be electrocuted again. 

I try staying up when the lights are off so I can see who's bringing me food. Even the presence of someone else would be enough to put me at least slightly at ease. But I'm always lured to sleep by exhaustion and the scent of flowers. 

The meals I'm served are basic. Just water, bread and watery soup. It's not awful, but I suppose that's only because I'm constantly hungry. Sometimes I wake up without food, it was difficult coping without any certainty of schedule. 

The only certainty is John's voice, saying his demands through the speaker.

The only certainty is John.

 

 

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Australian's say 'you know' a lot. I don't know why but we do. Also when people right Australian characters they massively overplay the accent. I'm trying to keep so obviously there is a difference in accent and speech patterns but I'm not gonna butcher it. Also, words like 'you know' tend to be nervous words. Like 'uhm' or 'like'.
> 
> For those particularly perceptive you may notice that the break between section was different in the last one. It wasn't a southern cross. This is where Dinah breaks and she moves on from her past and accepts the cult.
> 
> The methods of torture I wrote in this fic are actually used. The messed up routine creates confusion, the exhaustion and hunger makes it hard to concentrate, the lack of contact makes you desperate. I drew the use of the book from an actual cult story, I won't go into the extreme details but basically, a cult (or terrorist organisation) kept a girl in a closet with nothing but one of their pamphlets, in her boredom she would read the pamphlet and (in basic terms) the more you read or hear something the truer it becomes, when the cult let or out she asked to join them. 
> 
> The shock collar was tied around her thigh because it is fattier, it can absorb a lot more than a neck can. I hate reading stories where they sock someone in the neck, yet they get no permanent brain damage because that's what would happen if the voltage was high enough.
> 
> The flowery scent was Bliss. They used a dose to knock her unconscious then take her to use the bathroom. In her confusion, she didn't realise that need was being satisfied and all thoughts of going to the bathroom flew out the window. The also used her uncsious body for easurements etc. for the dress.


	4. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know. It's been a while but I have my reasons.
> 
> An old friend from primary school had committed suicide and it made me too depressed to write anything. I also decided to find and read the Book of Joseph. Just so I can write better and have a deeper understanding of the characters, check at the endnotes for further explanation.
> 
> I will update more recently now.

I don't know how long it had been when the door I forgot existed finally opened. I was unhealthily skinny before I was kidnapped, often forgetting to skip meals for days on end. A bland diet and extreme muscle atrophy quickly ate away at what was left of my fat and muscle. Any longer in that God forsaken cell and I would have forgotten that an outside world even existed in the first place.

They released some kind of gas into the room when they got me. It wasn't enough to knock me unconscious but it made me very drowsy. I'm not sure why they bothered, my blood sugar levels must hate me at the moment.

I'm not aware of my surroundings. I feel weightless yet heavy at the same time, all I see are bright lights. Then they get dark. A vibrating sensation surrounds me. I fall asleep.

******

I wake up somewhere warm. Not overly boiling or freezing like the room I had been staying in, but a comfortable warm. I stay in the comforts of darkness for an unknown amount of time, slowly mustering the energy to open my eyes

People come in and out of the room, speaking in mumbles that my lethargic mind cannot decipher. I feel a gloved hand on top of my naked arm, before feeling a slight pinch, causing my face to screw up in discomfort. "It's okay," I hear a male voice above me, "I'm just pulling out the IV drip." The pinching sensation continues for another moment before a feel something pressed against the injection site.

I went back to sleep.

******

Someone was next to me, I was pressed against the scratchy fabric of their suit. I breathed in, smelling expensive cologne and a hint of blood. I was lying against his shoulder, at least, I think it was. The only thing I could hear was the occasional, slightly deeper breath coming from him and the clicking of a keyboard. 

I open my eyes, groaning as my eyes grow used to the blinding lights. I look up at the man I was resting on. 

John.

It was a voice I know very well but whose face I've only seen on my first night here and scribbled onto the pages of the Book of Joseph. He was a beautiful man, it was hard not to notice. He looked down at me with those ice blue eyes. It was like seeing winter for the first time. It was impossible not to be enraptured.

He peels me off of him and lays me against the headboard. With a groan, he hops off the bed and stretches out his muscles. He turns to me and asks, "Do you like apples?"

It was a weird first thing to say to someone when you see them for in the first time in... however long it's been. "A-apples are fine," My voice is quiet and raspy from disuse. He picks up a plate full of chopped apples, grabbing one and holding it up to my lips. I timidly bite into it, avoiding eye contact with him. He sits next to me and continues feeding me apple slices while talking. I don't exactly want to know how he knew I liked apples, perhaps it was simply arrogance.

"You were rehabilitated for eight days." Only eight days? It felt like months. I don't dare interrupt him though. "You didn't resist for as long as most. That's good. Resisting for the sole sake of resisting is a sign of pride and stupidity. There's no fault in being open-minded." His words were like a lullaby, it was impossible not to hang onto every note, every chord that his lips sang. He holds his my face in his hand, I pause in my chewing and nuzzle against his palm. I've never had an extreme desire to socialise, but the isolation over the course of my life must have made me somewhat desperate for someone to just  _care_. Not because of duty, but because they wanted to.

My parents and brother cared, but there were times where I could tell that I was an obvious burden, they tried very hard to hide it. There were times where I would walk past my brother's room, hearing him complain about his problematic sister to his friend over the phone before moving on to hot girls in his year level or how Australia was doing in The Ashes cricket tournament. There were nights where I would go into the kitchen at night to get a drink, only to hear my parents talk about my 'attention seeking behaviour'. I would choke down my sobs until I went to my room.

Don't get me wrong, my family is nice. However, we were just bordering the upper class and we had an image to maintain. looking at my mum, you never would've guessed that she grew up on a poor farm in Arkansas.

I had 'friends' in high school that told me to my face that they only started talking to me because I looked lonely. Like I was a charity case. My therapists were very good, but they never  _cared_. If I stopped seeing them they would mourn the loss of a customer not the loss of me. The only one that ever properly cared about me was the one who recommended that I live in the country. I'm an American citizen by default, why not take advantage of that?

I suppose I spent so much time isolated by everybody that I didn't realise how much I craved a family or at least someone who cares for the sake of caring. Perhaps this man in front of me who, the Book of Joseph says, was horrifically abused by his family, who was an addict and who was shunned by the everyone around him. Perhaps that was why I was put on this Earth. Perhaps why, when I was looking for I place to live, my eye immediately drew to this little name on the map. Perhaps my purpose is not to care for injured animals. But to care for the man in front of me, for the only voice during my rehabilitation. And to help the Father bring about a new world, a better world. For once in my life, I found a purpose.

"You are thinkin' pretty hard over there sweet cheeks. Don't hurt yourself," I look up at John, who in turn is smirking down at me. I look at him, and for the first time since coming here, I speak without prompt, "I would like to confess, sir."

John's smirk only grew wider.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made this chapter shorter than normal for two reasons.  
> 1\. I needed to get something to you guys and to help force myself out of my self-pity hiatus and,  
> 2\. The next chapter is the confession, it will be quite long and quite gory, so I want to give myself a while to write it.
> 
> Though this chapter is a build up I will not call it a filler. I will not call anything I write a filler. My plots tend to be more focused on character development than events. I read the book of Joseph so I can get a better understanding of the characters.   
> This is the end of the explanation portion of my notes.
> 
> RANT TIME:  
> I HATE OOC CHARACTERS UNLESS SPECIFIED TO BE OOC.  
> Fanfiction writers tend to strip a character down to their basics. A lot of Far Cry 5 fanfic I have read Jacob is an agnostic teddy bear - even though canonically he's quite the believer if you actually pay attention, it never implies he doesn't believe in the cult. He also suffers from PTSD, it says so in the book. PTSD isn't just nightmares and flashbacks, it can also manifest in violence and in severe cases psychotic episodes, Joseph said it took him and John a very long time to even make him resemble the man he once was.  
> Joseph is a hyper-religious soft boi. He hated his dad for his ultra-religiousness and alcoholism, is extremely manipulative and has a massive family complex. He is also a mass control freak. Those are going to be explored in his story.  
> John would also have a type of PTSD (I theorise), just not as severe as Jacob's. He was a drug and sex addict and in the book, it shows he is extremely intelligent and manipulative. Saying people would tell him more than they would ever tell their therapist.   
> It saddens me because people could do so much in fanfic with these characters but I rarely see characters that aren't completely botched up.   
> Examples (disclaimer: most are hyperbolic but I have have read stories where they are like this): Black Widow's always sharpening knives, Draco is a typical teenage fuckboi etc.  
> There are very little stories of character exploration, where people can show more depths to someone than was ever shown on screen, I hope to change that, even slightly.
> 
> I should probably end the notes now.  
> As always thanks for taking your time to read this garbage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter and onwards is highly disturbing. Please pay attention to the tags and keep them in mind going forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I know that the wait was long I am so so sorry. I spilt water on my computer playing family feud and using the touch screen on my computer is extremely difficult and has made me highly frustrated. However, this chapter is almost twice as long as usual so enjoy!

The rest of the morning went by fairly quickly, though that's probably due to my anxious anticipation of tonight more than it is anything else. I do not know which sin I will soon have tattooed upon my flesh, it isn't something that I have ever really put much thought into.

 

John had work to do. Being the main income and supply plus the legal representative of the Project would be something that few people would be able to do. Why his main sin was sloth I have no idea. It seems too personal of a question to ask him. In time perhaps, I will find out on my own.

 

Before he left John locked me in the room to leave me with my hunger alone.

 

"Eating too much after a period of malnourishment is dangerous."

 

And with those words he left, whistling a merry tune to himself as he walked out the door.

 

There wasn't much to the room. I learned that I was to be placed in the guest room until we got married on Thursday.

 

Only six days.

 

And still there seemed to be a lot to keep me occupied. I have my first (and hopefully my only) confession today, my baptism tomorrow then I spend the next few days alternating between the Seed siblings to get acquainted with the Project. I suppose with finishing my rehabilitation ahead of time they decided to space things out more so I wouldn't grow insane with boredom.

 

For lunch, I was delivered a small fruit salad by a guard - who I learned was also named John. Knowing what was to come soon, I didn't even want to look at it, nor I didn't want to incur John's (my John's) wrath by refusing to eat the meal.

 

I slowly eat, what should have been a nourishing and delicious meal felt tasteless on my tongue. But it was worth not being at the brunt of John’s anger again.

 

I reach my hand up to my neck. It was bare. Naked.

 

Somehow, amidst my anxious thoughts, I find sleep.

 

******

 

I wake up to the sound of the door opening as John swaggered inside. "You ready?" He asks, practically buzzing with excitement. I can't manage any more than a nod. John claps his hands in front of him, "well there's no more need to waste any more time than we already have. Let us depart!"

 

I stand from the bed, holding onto the mattress for support, the muscle atrophy and extreme disuse made my legs shaky; after only a few steps I had to hold onto John, much to his pleasure. I look up at him. The man was a giant compared to me, then again so were most people.

 

He leads me as fast as I can walk towards the basement of the house. 'I'll give you a tour in the morning," he told me, "no time now." It almost put me off to see how excited he was about the whole ordeal.

 

We enter a surprisingly clean room. There wasn't much to it. A dentist chair with straps on the armrests was placed in the middle of the room. On the side, there was a workbench and a wheelie chair.

 

John guided me onto the chair, straps my arms to it a tad too tightly.

 

"Is this where everyone does their confession?" I ask in a voice smaller than I hoped for. John swivels around in his chair, "no, this one is for family only." He winks at me before going back to his work, humming along to an unknown tune.

 

I stare at the wall in front of me, looking at every crevice and spot on them. This room was surprisingly clean, like a dentist’s office. I was lucky enough to never really need braces. Other than a crook here in there, my teeth are mostly straight. I continue to pass the time with empty thoughts. The only noise was John's humming while he prepared his tools and the infuriating clicking of the clock on the wall. Whilst most of the day seemed to be on permanent fast forward, it now seemed to be paused right at the climax. I couldn't even look at John as my chair was faced in the opposite direction to his workbench, leaving me with only the view of a sanitary tiled wall. I doubt that it was a mistake.

 

"All done!" John announces. He pushes his chair towards me. Situating himself beside the right armrest. It would be like talking to a therapist if it weren't for the fact that he was much too close and didn't have a notepad and pen. It made the scenario even more intimate. He reached under my chair and flipped a hidden switch. The room dimmed, it was no longer a garish white light, but instead, it was deep red. It only made the scene that much more intimate. But confessions are meant to be are they not?

 

"Now let's start with what you are not," John begins. "During your rehabilitation, I rarely had to discipline you. You didn't curse or rage or scream like a banshee. You didn't put up with being in pain solely for the sake of proving... whatever it is people want to prove in those situations. You aren't pride or wrath." He begins absently mindedly stroking my bare arm, once or twice I caught him sneaking glances towards my chest. “You certainly aren’t gluttonous and by the state of the house that you bought you aren’t greedy either.” I look at him, confused, "B-but I have d-done those things i-in my life before."

 

"Ah but that's not exactly the same. It is a sin only if you give into it, feed it, let it take over your thoughts and feed your actions. We are finding the sin that drives you. What makes you do horrible things. Everybody has done all the sins several times over, it is what makes us human. But we are trying not trying to base this off of one-off instances. We are finding the sin that you succumb to in your darkest hour when you have been stripped of everything you and laid bare for the world to see." John unbuttons his shirt and presents his bare chest to me. I have to stifle a gasp. All over his chest was a massive scar saying ‘SLOTH’ which looked to be crossed out. His chest was littered with tattoos, each telling a story and a message behind them. If one looked very closely, you could see very faint scars which he must’ve accumulated over the years. John continues to speak, "Like my trophies?" He takes his shirt fully off. Not that it much to do with anything, but he kept himself in good shape. He wasn’t muscular, but one could see the faint outline of abs if you squinted. His arms were bulkier.

 

"Now that leaves us with two more sins, and you're a virgin, I know that for certain." How he knows that piece of information I never want to find out.

 

I decide that this is a good time to speak, that's part of a confession after all. "I grew up very well off. I-I never had to want for anything. Now I don't know why but I was born different from other kids. M-mentally wise that is. I'm not physically disabled, obviously," I clear my throat awkwardly, looking anywhere except John, "m-my family was nice, always s-supportive. But b-b-being part of the circles we were c-came with certain expectations. E-e-e-eventually my st-tammer and social a-awkwardness bec-came too embarrassing for my f-family to bear," I was on the edge of tears, making my slight stammer a lot more pronounced than usual. John continued with his stroking, moving to my cheeks, I nuzzle against his palm, grounding myself before continuing again, "I s-saw the b-best speech therapists and psych-chiatrists money could b-buy. Th-the speech therapy w-worked w-w-wonders, believe it or n-not. The psychs h-had more diff-ficulty. I got d-diagnosed with m-m-m-many things over the y-years. ADHD, aut-tism, neurosis a-and everyth-thing in between.

 

"I g-grew resentful. W-why me? O-out of e-everyone why me? I-I wasn't the m-meanest, or impolite. W-why does e-everyone else g-get to be l-l-loved while I w-was sh-shunned?" Tears were running down my face. John leans his face in close, sensually dragging his tongue against my cheeks. "Don't worry Dinah," he whispers in my ear, "we are your family now. Where your old family failed we will nurture you. You just have to say one very special, three letter word. Say it for me. Now."

 

I look up into his deep, enigmatic eyes. With him, I will have what I always coveted: a family, people to love me unconditionally. One that put their child before their own reputation. "Yes," I say. The simple word thick with emotion and meaning. John let out a weak groan, so quiet I almost missed it. I also didn’t miss the way he subtly palmed the front of his jeans.

 

He gets up from his seat and walks towards his workbench, I can make out an obvious bulge coming from the crotch of his jeans. I try not to think about it.

 

He comes back, a weird instrument in his hand. It somewhat resembled a hot glue gun. Kind of. "I th-thought you were g-gonna scar me..." I say, thinking back to the horrific scars on his chest. John lets out a chuckle in response, "scarring is for the men sweetheart, shows strength." Begins looking over my body, not lustfully this time. Instead, he looked as if he were studying an art piece. He mumbles incoherently to himself as he dragged his fingers over my body, looking for the perfect place to carve my sin.

 

He strokes my fingers and smiles to himself. "Perfect," he whispers as he grabs his tattoo gun. "Fingers can hurt sweetheart, a lot. You just gotta promise to hold in there till I'm done. Don't make me screw it up now, it has to be... perfect." He's practically moaning his words.

 

He lifts up my delicate hand and kisses each one above the knuckle. He grabs the ink gun, it makes a low whirring sound. "Try not to flinch now," he grins sadistically, finally bringing the scene to a climax as he presses the gun down on my pinkie finger.

 

I had heard how much tattoos hurt, I remember seeing somewhere that the bonier the area the more it hurts. It didn't prepare me for this pain and all though. The second the gun pressed down I let out a shrill scream. One loud enough to make any man flinch, any man except John that his. In fact, the orgasmic pleasure painted onto his face only seems to grow more and more hungry with each scream and sob I release. I would've begged, but I'm in too much pain to even think of a coherent sentence.

 

Eventually, the pain stops, John sets the gun down and moves towards my face. My snotty, tear covered face. "So fuckin' pretty," he whispers. He goes over to his bench and comes back with a camera. All I can process in between my whimpers of pain is the click of a camera. I continue to convulse and sob.

 

"Just hold in there, sweetheart," he says, "only three more fingers left." And with a soft kiss to my moist lips, he lifts up the tattoo gun again and my cries only get louder.

 

And by the third finger, I pass out.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

My hand throbbed. I open my eyes, blinking away the blurriness. I look down at my bandaged fingers. Of course, it had to be my dominant hand that got tattooed. I could feel my pulse from the wounds. I let out a slight groan, tears pooling in my eyes.

 

John. He's the one that caused me this pain and got off on it. What kind of psycho hurt their fiancé and felt pleasure? An abused one. Remember the Book of Joseph. People are products of their childhood but that is no excuse to ruin people’s lives. A lonely tear fell down my face, is this what my fate is? Marrying a man who felt pleasure from the pain of his intended? When I asked God for a man who loved me this was not what I had in mind.

 

I lay there, staring up at the roof, lost in my thoughts for who knows how long before the door finally opened and John came in. I look at him and he smiles his award-winning smile. That smile washes all my doubt away, suppressing it to a place so deep it is almost untraceable. It makes me forget all my worries.

“How’s the hand?” His toned sounded concerned, though his face was anything but. Still, I was happy he cared enough to ask. “I-it hurts,” I say, my stammer much less obvious now that I wasn’t stressed and I could remember my speech training. Three deep breaths. Seven seconds in through the nose. Eleven seconds out through the mouth.

John rises from the bed, handing me a glass full of some sort of drink, it smelt sweet. I slowly gulp down as much as my small stomach can handle without making me sick. My eyes slowly droop downwards, my brain becoming fuzzy. It was like trying to look through thick fog.

“Joseph will speak to you when you wake up, good night my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know that everything happened a bit fast in this chapter but I wanted the prologue to be out of the way. This will be my shortest chapter, I aim to have an absolute minimum of 2500 words per chapter so chapters will be released anywhere between 3 days and a week and a half. The more brutal chapters will take me longer because I don't want to offend anyone. This Chapter was just to introduce the main character and the basis of the plot.
> 
> When I first wrote this chapter, Mary-Anne was her own character. however to in order for my story to make sense, I instead made her Faith. Of course, she changed her name when she met Dinah in the off-chance Dinah happened to already know her name.  
>  
> 
> Sorry that its shit.


End file.
